“Dinner’s almost ready. You could come sit down.”
“Oh, am I being serviced?” Anthony preened. He could almost hear the red on Gabriel’s face.
Anthony moved to the table, leaving his curiosity at the bookshelf. There were only two seats at the table, but he picked the one with its back to the living room. It wasn’t like he’d planned to run, but if he needed to, it was a quick escape. If his cravings got too bad, he really would run out of here. For the moment, the smell of chicken was enough to take his mind off of things. Gabriel hadn’t been lying—he really did know how to cook.
Gabriel served them both, taking the time to ask what piece of the bird Anthony preferred. He hadn’t just roasted some chicken breasts out of a package; that would have been far too basic. Gabriel had roasted an
